


A Mother's Love

by EonaMokaa



Category: Carole & Tuesday (Anime)
Genre: DISCLAIMER: I do not condone any of the actions or behaviors in this fic, Heavy Angst, I am merely writing an interpretation of what may have happened using the context of episode 7, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Manipulative Relationship, Not for the light of heart, Past Abuse, You Have Been Warned, if anything in the tags bothers you you may want to skip this one, manipulative parenting, not overly graphic but i put the warning just in case since it is mentioned a bit, physical and verbal abuse, speaking of episode 7 if you haven't watched it yet this fic may not make sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 12:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonaMokaa/pseuds/EonaMokaa
Summary: A look into Angela and Mama's past together, and the possible circumstances that lead Angela to choose to live on her own.Again, fair warning: if anything in the tags bothers you, you might be better off skipping this one. You have been warned.





	A Mother's Love

It started out with little things. A stern look. A raised voice. A locked room.

Angela was twelve, when it first began. After a particularly close pageant, Mama seemed to be more anxious. She had won, of course, but just barely, and Mama wouldn't stand for it. Something about putting more effort into being the absolute best, Mama had practically growled, the lecture seemingly endless and emphasized with an increasingly disappointed look in her eyes. It made Angela sick to remember it.

_"What's the big deal? I won, isn't that good enough for you?" Angela huffed._

_"Were you even_ trying _, Angela? The only reason you won in the first place is because that little wench tripped and had to back out of the competition." Mama snarled, standing tall in front of where Angela sat curled up on the couch. "Next time you won't be so lucky, and what'll happen then? Didn't you have a dream you wanted to reach?" Angela flinched, her eyes widening and a familiar tightening in her throat made her breath hitch. She blinked the tears away, and nodded slowly, wishing she could be anywhere but here in this moment._

_"Then_ act _like it!" Mama's voice was harsh and loud, and any restraint that Angela had over her tears crumbled away, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "I won't accept failure, do you understand?"_

_"Yes, Mama..." Angela mumbled, sniffling quietly into her arms._

_"Good." Mama let out a frustrated sigh, moving to sit next to Angela on the couch. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I just want what's best for you, Angela, even if that means being a little harsh." Mama wrapped an arm around Angela's shoulders, rubbing her back in slow circles as the girl cried. "Go wash up. Dinner will be ready soon."_

_"Yes, Mama." She replied, her voice shaking and devoid of emotion. She took one look at the trophy that sat brilliantly on her shelf, shining and new, and threw it in the trash without hesitation._

Those bouts of anger, or "tough love" as Mama had called it, only grew more frequent as the years went by. She had grown accustomed to her yelling, now. Knew how to take it, her face a careful mask, never showing how she felt and agreeing easily to her demands. The less fight she put up, the less emotions she showed, the faster it would all be over, and she could take comfort at last in the solace of her room, wondering just when she started becoming numb in the first place.

Angela was fourteen, when it started to truly escalate beyond her control. A raised hand. A new bruise.

She had the audacity to get sick two days before a large photo shoot. Pneumonia, the doctors had said, and came with orders of strict bed rest and nothing too strenuous for the body. As if the endless coughing, wheezing breaths, high fever, loss of appetite, and a stabbing pain in her chest when she inhaled weren't bad enough, Mama was _angry_. Not the usual angry - no, this time she had no filter, no control, and every word struck as hard as the first slap she'd received afterward.

_"We don't have time for this nonsense, Angela. You're not getting out of this photo shoot by coughing a little. This company is too big to let it slip by, do you understand? It's the opportunity of a lifetime, and you're not about to miss it over some petty illness!" Mama hissed, her arms crossed and towering over Angela's short stature._

_"It's not-" Angela's body was wracked with coughs, the force of it causing her to double over, and her breaths came shallow and painful. She slipped to the floor, arms wrapped tightly about herself as she struggled to regain her composure. "It's not...a petty illness, Mama. I can't...do the photo shoot, not like this." Mama glared down at the girl, still visibly shaking, and felt the familiar prick of nails digging into her palms._

_"Look at me, Angela." Mama ordered, but she didn't move her gaze off the floor until a hand dug under her chin and yanked her head up. Her eyes were brimming with tears again, she knew, but Mama wouldn't care, never did. "This is not a choice, you hear me? You are doing the photo shoot, cough or not, end of discussion. Your career is at stake, and I'm not going to let you throw it away." Angela slapped Mama's hand free, backing up against the wall, and mustered up as fierce of a glare as she could in her situation._

_"Don't you care about my health at all?" Angela yelled, her chest tickling with the action, and she fought the coughs down. "Don't you care about_ me _?" Her throat tightened, but she fought back the coughing fit, forced herself to sit still despite the dizziness taking over._

_Wrong move._

_In one quick motion, she was on the ground, her hand over her stinging cheek, and couldn't process what was going on. Mama was growling, her hand still outstretched from the blow, and with one last huff she walked out of the room and slammed the door loudly behind her. Angela didn't move, letting the tears slide over the bridge of her nose and onto the carpet below her, wondering just how much more she could take._

Angela was admitted to the hospital immediately following the photo shoot, having collapsed on her way out the door, but Mama didn't seem phased, caring only that their business had been done with some big shot company. She even had the nerve to get her a bouquet of flowers to congratulate her, accompanied by a dollar store 'get better soon' card, with details of her next job written neatly inside.

Angela was fifteen, when she started fraying at the seams. A bloody knife.

She remembered seeing Mama's pocketknife in her purse, digging it out without a hitch, and falling through the cracks. Mama had gone out for an errand, and wouldn't return for another hour at least, and Angela found herself staring at the knife, looking at her reflection on the blade, wondering.

_Mama came home late and slightly drunk, with an overwhelming dread settling in her stomach. She unlocked the door and stumbled in, noting the emptiness of the living room, absolute and complete quiet. She set her things down quickly on the table, looking around the room anxiously. Angela's door was closed. She knocked three times, and frowned when she was met with silence. She knocked harder this time, her hands trembling._

_"Angela, dear? Are you alright?" She called, her voice laced with worry, and an unknown uneasiness led her to open the door._

_There, on the floor, was a brilliant stain of red, seeping into the carpet without a care. In the middle of it all lay Angela, face pale and unmoving, hand loosely wrapped around her silver pocketknife, stained red with blood._

_The ride in the ambulance was silent save for the rustling of the doctors trying their best to fix her up before arriving at the hospital. It was a long wait, a treacherous five hours before she was stable, and yet another three before she was awake. Mama's hands trembled as she opened the door to her hospital room, and she was at her bedside in an instant, holding her frail hand in hers._

_"Angela, darling, I am so, terribly sorry. I never meant to..." Mama began, but Angela pulled her hand weakly from hers, and she finally looked her in the eye._

_"It's a bit late for that, Mama..." Angela said, her voice laced with an emotion she couldn't identify, her mask expertly in place. Mama sat down slowly in the chair across the room, looking down at the floor._

_"I'll quit the medications, I'll stop pressuring you, I'll do whatever you need-" Mama started, but Angela cut her off._

_"I want out." She said, her voice just barely audible above the whirring of machines, and Mama looked up, eyes wide._

_"You...what?"_

_"I want out of that house. I want a place to my own, where I can be alone, and where I can work freely." Angela continued, looking out through the window by her bed at the bustle of traffic outside._

_"I...I can arrange that." Mama replied, standing up and heading to the door._

_"One last thing, Mama." Angela said, and Mama paused, her hand still wrapped around the handle. "This is your last chance. For the sake of my career, I'll still work with you, but don't expect anything more than that. Don't disappoint me."_

_"...I understand." And with that, she left the room, and Angela was left with nothing but her own thoughts to occupy her._

It had been a little over a year since she started living by herself, and she didn't regret leaving one bit. Living on her own allowed her to come to terms with how she felt about Mama, and although she didn't trust her to have changed her behaviors yet, some part of her wished she could go back to the way it was before the whole thing began. She was the closest thing she had to family, and it hurt all the more when she had to distance herself, but maybe someday things would be alright again. For now, though, she had a career to build, and a past to recover from, and everything else could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted this fic a couple days ago and deleted it shortly after, but I'm still unsure of what I want to do with this fic. I'll probably leave it posted this time, but I may revisit the idea later and make a remixed fic. I'm still not completely sure about Mama's character, to be honest; if I do revisit this one, it'll probably be after we learn a bit more about them, but for now, I'll leave this here (I already put a fair amount of time and effort into this one, might as well). 
> 
> Also, the ending was another tricky thing - if their past was in any way abusive, than I don't know why she would still be working with Mama, but at the same time, given the context of episode 7, that's what it looks like to me. Feel free to talk about all of that stuff in the comments though, if you'd like - a different perspective may help things.


End file.
